


A Tall Glass of Mine

by theoraclespecialist



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Canon, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Tags to be added, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:17:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoraclespecialist/pseuds/theoraclespecialist
Summary: Dele and Eric had been the best of friends since the very beginning, opting to do everything together, from playing Mario to bossing the midfield, from going on dates with their respective girlfriends to driving along Mykonos in a jeep, from climbing onto each others' backs to crying on each others' shoulders. An odd friendship that grew and expanded with each passing day into something more.It's all good till they realize that they have to do something about their underlying feelings before it continues to hurt and torture them. Will they do anything about it? Will they risk jeopardizing both their careers? Both Eric and Dele have to contend with these newly-uncovered feelings as they maneuver through their challenging careers, the demands of their team and the hefty social expectations that only get worse with time.





	1. The Summer that Promised

**Author's Note:**

> PS: I haven't written about them in quite a while so my writing may be rusty. So I hope you enjoy it! Please leave any comments, questions, suggestions, if you'd like!

**Ibiza, June 2019.**

 

People change. Clubs change. Footballers change. The game changes. But some feelings never change.

Things were different, now. Eric knew it. Tottenham were not the young, bold, scintillating team anymore; they were merely keeping afloat and trying to keep up with the competition. Eric, himself, was different now; he did not think of himself as the versatile, resilient and promising holding midfielder either. He thought of himself as average and forgettable, as perhaps a disposable part of a very competent team. Skillful yet wanting.

At least, those are the thoughts that took precedence whenever Eric would go browsing through the football blogs, Instagram or his Twitter feed. He knew very well that these platforms were breeding grounds for hate, abuse and knee-jerk reactions that only led to damage, but at the same time, he couldn't stay away. His attention would gravitate towards the half-cooked transfer rumours, the endless barrage of memes, the heated speculation over futures, the strategic photos posted purely for clout or influence. Every now and then, he would catch of his teammate and his heart would skip a beat. His eyes slowed down for more than a second while his mind maneuvered through a surge of images, feelings and hypotheticals.

“Here you go, mate,” Jan handed him a bottle of beer, and took a seat next to him.

Eric lowered his sunglasses from his head and took a long, deep sip out of the bottle. The cool, blue waters of the Mediterranean moved peacefully at a distance, as a multitude of boats, ferries, and yachts speckled its vast body. Some lively Portuguese music was booming out of the speakers across the pool and his mates were frisking about: tossing around a ball, dancing, taking selfies, gulping down shots one after the other and just shouting incomprehensibly.

“Now you are either really moved by an article about a Yemen refugee or something’s risen in that big lunkhead of yours,”

Eric grimaced and kicked Jan’s ankle lightly.

“Is it…” Jan began carefully. “Something to do with the gaffer? The owner?”

Eric sighed and leaned back on his lawn chair. “No, nothing like that,” he assured. “I mean, it’s been a shite season for me, it is what it is. But I’ve had the conversation with Poch---I deserve another year to get back to my levels.”

Jan nodded as he downed an impressive amount of alcohol. Nothing thwarted the Belgians, Eric liked to say. Jan swallowed and crossed his legs, looking away from Eric. He opened his mouth but hesitated a little bit. “So is it…” he swallowed. “Dele?”

Eric was glad his sunglasses obstructed how his face had immediately changed colour. He fell silent and let Jan just infer whatever he wanted from the lack of response.

Dele’s role in Eric’s life hadn’t always been complicated. In the beginning, it was easy. They locked into each other’s rhythms very quickly, both on the pitch as well as off. It was easy talking to him, it was easy playing with him, it was easy calling him on the phone and ranting about anything and everything, it was easy checking out girls with him, it was easy bantering him on camera, it was easy carrying him on his back for minutes at a time. But years had passed and Eric knew that things weren’t that easy anymore. And he didn't know if they were ever going to get easier either.

“You know, I saw Ruby in Madrid,” Eric said, trying his best to mask the hurt in his tone but nevertheless a shred of irritation crept in. “I thought it was all over and she’d been swept aside just like the others and that he might actually think about anyone but himself for once, but I guess…”

“And I thought you said you didn’t care…” Jan shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“No, no,” Eric raised his voice and sat up straight. “Mate, I just...I don’t get him,” he admitted in defeat. “I’d blamed myself for not being forward enough for being a wimp but it’s clearly not my fault, what happened there.”

“I think you’re overreacting a little bit, to be honest,” said Jan. “It’s not about whose fault it is, you both are so young. You can’t just rely on chemistry and intuition alone.”

Eric sighed and took another long sip from his beer. He had emptied three-quarters of the bottle in under three minutes. Drinking was not going to be the solution for anything. Not his recurring injuries, not the piercing stomach aches he suffered from in the middle of the night, not the burning of his eyes whenever he ran through what had happened between the two during that Christmas party in his head, not the goosebumps that strategically appeared every time Eric looked back at those early, flirtatious years. But drinking made him forget. Forget the pain of the past and the worries of the future.

“You think he’s going to bring her to the wedding?” asked Jan.

Eric finished his drink off. “Why the fuck not,” He hadn’t even thought about that until now.

If they were back together, then it certainly signaled that Dele would show her off to anyone he could. Flaunt his relationship. The enamoured couple finding themselves back to each other through all the obstacles that come their way; whose love and passion for one another overcome all internal and external challenges. Eric could picture it in his head already, in a manner way more visually detailed than he had planned: Dele, looking sharp, handsome and a little bit silly, in a three-piece beige suit while Ruby turning heads in a tight, short mini-dress, their arms wrapped around each other, smiling, laughing, having a good time, taking photos, downing tequila shots and ripping the dance floor apart with their energy. They were perfect, not because of their undying love for each other, but because they didn't have a care for the world. They were lost within each other’s companies.

“I’m gonna get another one, you want?”

“It's only ten in the morning, Dier,” Jan grinned.

Eric stood up. “Enough time to get a few more in, sober up and go again.” He said as he sauntered towards the pool.

  


**Los Angeles, June 2019.**

 

The sun blasted through the window in its complete radiance. It was bright, too bright perhaps. On one hand, he could see everything clearly: the glimmering ocean, the fish-scale patterned wallpaper, the exquisite chandelier floating above in the middle of the room, the tiniest of blackheads on her skin. On the other hand, if he turned his head a little bit to the right, the glare of the sun struck him just well enough to cover his eyes and turn him blind for a few seconds.

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured. “Fuck, fuck...keep going,”

Dele buckled his hips and thrust harder. She had tried to caress his body but Dele chose to grab both of her wrists and lock them down in his right fist, right against her back. His left hand was on her head, pulling at her hair and leveraging it to repeatedly drive his movement, slamming his cock into her ass.

“God,” she panted. “Fuck me, fuck me hard,” Her breathing was sloppy, her eyes had rolled back and he assumed that she was probably wet as the ocean, only if he would bother to check. He closed his eyes.

_Delboy._

He opened his eyes wide open again. He could not go down that path. “You like being fucked like this?” he hissed. He rammed deeper into her asshole, widening her cheeks wide open and pinching the back of her neck through her blonde hair. She groaned louder and louder.

“Yes, oh fuck…” she managed through her clumsy breathing. “Do me harder,” she said.

Dele quickened his movements and she screamed uncontrollably. “Daddy,” she uttered through her pleasure. “Harder, harder...gosh, fuck me harder,”

Dele extended his right hand to grab the front of her neck. He pulled her back through a tight grasp. And then he pressed hard. “You like this? You like being choked like a dirty little slut?”

“Yes, oh daddy, please,” Her neck stiffened. “Make me hurt,”

Dele closed his eyes again and spanked her hard on her ass. She screamed as waves of undeniable pleasure washed over her.

 

_Delboy._

_‘I know what it’s like to be jealous, Delboy. Just a couple of push-ups and you’re good to go’ Eric smirked, beads of water glimmering on his body like a work of art. In the water, Eric looked different. His body was not buried under his mash of baggy clothes; his broad shoulders, his chiseled abs, the V-shaped curvature that slipped into his trunks. In the water, Eric was no longer the seemingly thickheaded, poorly-dressed buddy who would gladly offer piggy-back rides. He turned into an intimidating, breathtaking beast of a man. His sturdy arms cutting through the water as he swam back and forth. He pushed the hair out of his face smoothly when it would fall over his eyes. ‘Some manners, Del’_

 

Dele thrust forward one last time and felt his load discharge into the condom. The same images, conversations flashed in his mind and he knew exactly what made his entire body pulsate with a raw, powerful desire.

“Jesus,” she exhaled as she rolled onto her back. Dele backed away from the bed and went to the bathroom to dispose of his condom. He had been instructed very early on in his career with regard to his social life: every condom has to be accounted for, every sexual partner verified and every glass of alcohol inspected. He felt somewhat decent about following at least one of those directions.

“I didn’t know soccer players were so...aggressive in bed,” she said teasingly. She sat up and rummaged around for her clothes. “Not to say I minded that. I’ve always been into crazy sex, to be honest,”

“Football,” Dele corrected quietly, as he picked up her bodycon dress that was crumpled up by the foot of the bed.

“What?”

“Football,” He repeated, louder, as he handed her the dress.

“Yeah, yeah, same thing,” She began dressing.

“It’s really not,” He went back to the bathroom and started brushing his teeth. He had met this girl at a club near Venice Beach last night. Or by Santa Monica. It didn’t really matter. He had entered the venue in the hopes that he could submerge his body and mind in the intoxication of music, alcohol, and weed. He wished to become anonymous, in a way; he wanted to get fucked up as an ordinary person, or rather, as no one. Someone who wanted to get fucked for the sake of getting fucked up. Someone who had no identity outside of this club. Certainly, not someone who faced the internal pressures and complications he did.

But his friends’ display rendered that aspiration difficult to achieve. They turned up in their most expensive clothing, their Bugattis’, their sunglasses worth more than what some people make in the whole year. They reeked of luxury, power and unchecked vanity. Dele was disgusted by it but he knew that his friends deserve it: they had been there for him in troubling times during his adolescence, and the least he could do is return those favors in ultimately meaningless forms of wealth. Multiple girls flocked to their party, uttering promises of gratification and just a plain old’ good time. Granted, it was Los Angeles and Dele being a multi-millionaire athlete/sports personality made no difference to the composition of a club that consisted of affluent heirs, investment bankers, actors, musicians and sleazy reality stars looking for their big break.

This girl was nothing special, but as he watched his friends chat up some girls at the club and execute their attempts at bringing them home, Dele thought about the restless nights he had been experiencing recently, frantically looking through the old photos, desperately hoping his ailment would be rid by repetition. It did not. His longing surged through his body and kept prodding at his mind. He needed to release some energy and so he picked the girl he thought would be the least likely to want to commit.

“So do you need me to sign an NDA or something?” She smiled, standing right before him in the bathroom, fully dressed. Now sober, Dele realized that she looked more mature and sophisticated than he had presumed the night before. In her pencil heels, a solid tight-fitting dress and a large pearl necklace, she seemed as if she could stroll into her PR agency and order her secretary to fetch her a respectable, productive latte.

Dele rinsed out his mouth and wiped down his face with a towel. “Nope,”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am,” He came out back into the bedroom, trying to minimize face-to-face contact with her as much as possible.

She followed him in amusement. “What, you want to see me again?” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively. “Looking for someone who’s a lil freaky?”

Dele snorted. “With all due respect...uh…”

“Allison,” she said proudly.

“Yes, Allison, with all due respect,” he said, as he grabbed his phone from the bedside table. “You’re not the first or the last bird who wants to be called a dirty cumslut in bed, you hear? Calling me daddy and begging me to choke you doesn’t make you a freak, not in the least, not ever. I could go over the motions and hit that same club today and there would be another replica of you---some other brunette with a tight arse claiming to find that one true man who would allow her to be dirty. It doesn’t make you unique, Allison. It makes you basic as fuck. And it’s the same shite everywhere---girls throwing their bodies at me, trying to win out the competition on who’d like to get spanked red in the bedroom, you think this is new? Some so-called ‘feminist’ who believes that having her face dripped in cum would kill the patriarchy and liberate girls all over the world. Your sexual agency in being tied up and spat on is supposed to make you stand out from the rest?”

“Fine, all is good and well till that guy checks out and you’re left wondering what you lacked in the bedroom, and how dare he ever walk away from a girl who’s got everything: looks, smarts and an uncanny ability to offer everything he wants. Next time, you will go harder, you will ask to have fists shoved up your fanny, you will be his slave because you want to prove to yourself that there is a limit, that all guys have a limit and you are it,”

“And that’s where you falter. It’s not that guys don’t have limits; it’s just that they don’t give a shit about how far you’re willing to go. They cum and they forget. Sure, they’d love to walk you around in a leash but they’d just be satisfied if you suck their cock while they’re watching Family Guy. Or if you do missionary on the bed like an old married couple because they want to cum and they want to forget about it. We are raised to be animals, to exert our masculinity everywhere we go, attracting insecure but overachieving girls like you of course. We only care about cumming and spreading our seed around. Our cocks can’t help themselves, our emotions only make us weak, our desires are all about immediate gratification. Isn’t that right? So let's not pretend I’m your saviour for choking you into submission. Because I could hardly give a damn,”

Allison stood, frozen. Her mouth was slightly parted but no words squeaked out. Dele grabbed a fresh towel from the closet.

“I’m going to hop in the shower, now,” he remarked casually. “And some advice for when you decide to go to the tabloids. They might offer you good money but we both know you don’t want or need it. They’ll go about like they cracked the national treasure but in the end, they all know that a guy liking rough sex is not a revelation, it’s just the expectation. I won’t be infamous, I will be a poster boy for all those morons out there, feeling guilty about what they’re wanking to, so have a go at it. You will see how there is no fucking winner there,”

He stepped inside the bathroom. “I trust you’ve got your Uber on speed-dial, so it was nice fucking ya, Allison,” he said one last time before he shut the door in her face.

  


* * *

 

Harry had a large cup of freshly-brewed coffee readied on the counter for Dele for when he came downstairs. “Morning, mate,” Harry greeted. He himself wasn’t looking the brightest this morning: his wavy, blonde hair was disheveled, a thick patch of uneven stubble enclosing his face and he was wearing a wrinkled bathrobe. “I got just the thing for you,” he said as he slid the cup to Dele.

“Thanks, mate,” Dele said.

“That bird you’re with barely said anything to me! I offered her coffee and stuff but she stormed off, like what’s up with that?” he asked as he took a careful sip out of his cup.

“You don’t wanna know,”

They spent a few minutes in silence. It made sense that Harry got up the earliest of them all; he’d resisted taking home a chick last night. The guys had egged him on and had tried to introduce him to some interested women but Harry repeatedly maintained that he would not partake in any sexual activities. He’d recently found a gorgeous girl for himself back in London and while they were still figuring out the boundaries of their relationship, Harry didn’t want to ruin any of those discussions through an act of impulse and camaraderie. Instead, he assumed the role of the chaperone, ensuring the boys did not get too shit-faced nor were left unsalvageable if the paparazzi came calling.

“Uhm, Rubes called,” he informed nervously. “She said she’d tried calling you a few times, dunno if you got a chance to see?”

“I don’t think so,” Dele lied. “My phone was dead,”

Harry nodded, unconvinced. “Oh well, you better give her a call back,” he swallowed and leaned forward. “I know things are a little off with you both, especially the last couple of months and...whatever happened last night, but she…” he said. “She cares about you. Whatever you choose to do, it’s best be talking to her,”

Dele lowered his head. He knew he had to call her. He had managed to destroy a lot of his relationships over the years, advertently as well as inadvertently, but the onus still remained on him to figure out how he could build those bridges back up again. Ruby had always been kind to him: she tried to get to know him, she built strong bonds with the rest of the Hickfords, she wanted to spend time with him, she always offered a shoulder to cry on if he felt overwhelmed. She was the best girlfriend he could ask for, and that’s what tormented him. The guilt ate at him like a parasite, slowly taking away his willingness to pretend or forget, ebbing away whatever passion he’d previously had for women and most noticeably, affected his ability to communicate effectively with any of his close family, friends or teammates. Particularly that one teammate.

After finishing breakfast, he went upstairs to make that call. He could feel the dread from his heart spread across his body, filling his mouth with a dryness. There he goes again, Dele Alli. Pretending, smiling, kneeling, apologizing, conforming, barrelling through the years and the people and the memories so he wouldn't have to face the man that stared back at him through the mirror.

It rang for about three times before it was picked up. Silence from her end.

“Rubes?” Dele said.

He heard a sigh. “So you’re finally awake?” she asked, tired but accepting.

“Yes, I was a bit hung over,” he replied. “You alright? How’re you enjoying your girls’ weekend?”

“It’s pretty good, so far,” Her voice was passive; she wasn’t looking for a deep, revealing conversation but she did not want to just waste a phone call, either. I guess Dele had to prepare that the dynamics of their relationship had also changed.

. “Um, I…” she paused. “I wanted to ask you whether...whether you wanted to match colours for H’s wedding?”

“Oh,” The mention of H’s wedding brought him back down to reality. The person that Dele had been avoiding for the better part of a year would be there, in all his glory, striding in his crisp, fitted suit. Tall wine glasses in hand, eyes blue against the green of the garden.  “Yeah, of course. What colour were you thinking?”

“I’m between pink and yellow, you think that’s okay?”

“Sounds good,” He said absentmindedly.

But Ruby...Ruby was clever. She could sense the disinterest in his voice, the apathy, the fear, the apprehension, the pit in his stomach, the crack in his voice. Her intuition with regard to how Dele expressed himself had gotten so sharp that he had a hard time lying to her. Perhaps yet another reason he thought it best to cut her out of his life.

“Dele...look,” she said. “I’ll be there for you. I know it’s going to be _crazy_ tough to see Eric all fucking steamy like that but...you will have me, I can give you company. I know I don’t have his crystal blue eyes or that ludicrous thing he calls a beard but you can count on me,” she assured confidently. “I’m a pretty good beard myself, if I say so myself,”

Dele chuckled. “You don’t have to do that,” Dele felt bad; she certainly wasn’t going to be relegated to just being ‘his company’. He wished he were better for her, that he was more thoughtful and understanding of her desires, of her ambitions. If she was willing to take such a big leap for him, then he could return a few of her calls.

“Whatever happened between you and him in that Christmas party...that’s only between the two of you,” she reminded him. “If you can both keep it civil and private, then you don’t have to worry about the paps or the media. I’m here to deal with them,”

After she hung up, Dele shook his head to himself. He did not deserve any of the people in his life. Not his adopted family, the same who struggled to make ends meet but decided to take a chance and do their part in ensuring that a little abandoned kid from their neighbourhood would have a safe, warm place to live and a family that would love him to death. Not his supportive teammates, who continually positioned themselves, both on and off the pitch, to relay their strongest and most genuine support behind him, through the sitters, through the red cards, through the penalty misses, through the raging tempers and the humbling defeats.

Certainly not Eric Dier. The boy who stole his jokes and then his training pants and ultimately his heart.

  
  
  
  



	2. The Wedding that was Promised

**London, June 2019**

 

“You know, you steal my thunder, like all the time,” Dele pointed out as he pulled into the lane. 

Ruby pressed and released her lips, producing a pop. She shut down the pocket mirror and tucked it inside her clutch. “Who says it’s _your_ thunder?”

Dele snorted and shook his head. It was a bright, pleasant London afternoon here at the estate, one of the only days during the whole year they weren’t going to be scowling at the weather. The entire driveway into the manor was surrounded by the luscious green of the trees nearby. Every now and then, the sun would creep it through the tendrils and vines at the top, causing Dele to look away for a second. Finally, the lane was broken up by a large, green, heavily-ornate gate, opened quite gallantly by a gateman. 

“Holy fuck, he went all out for this one,” Dele said as he gazed up at the manor that stood outside his car. The entire expanse of the manor did not fit into his vision through the window, so he was glad to hand over the keys of his car to the valet and actually get to explore the estate in all its glory. 

“I mean, most people only get one wedding, or we should hope,” Ruby said as she minced out of the car, her stilettos tapping against the cobblestones. 

Dele snorted. As soon as he turned to face Ruby, she wrinkled her forehead. “This is not remotely right, mate,” She moved closer to him and lifted his tie. 

“I dunno, I watched some video and…” He and Ruby needed to sort out his tie knot properly before they could enter the premises of the mansion. 

As they fumbled with the tie, Dele watched another car round up around the mansion. Through the corner of his eyesight, he spotted a man get out of the car and hand the keys over the valet. Some conversation occurred, and the laugh that burst into the air sent waves of both fear and excitement down Dele’s spine. “Fuck,” Dele pronounced. 

“Having trouble with the dress code, Delboy?” Eric smirked, as he took off his sunglasses and paused his stride right next to Dele and Ruby. 

“Not everyone is forty-nine like you, Dier,”

Dier scoffed. His sister Franny stepped up next to him; Dele nodded and smiled at her. He would have reached out for a kiss on the cheek but Ruby’s nimble fingers were still keeping him ahold through his tie. “Rubes, you wanna let a man give it a go?” Eric offered, tucking his sunglasses into his shirt. 

“Eric!” Frankie exclaimed in indignation. 

Eric shrugged as Ruby laughed. “No, he’s right! Why should a woman have to learn something stupid entirely to benefit a man? Fuck, you’re an adult, Dele,” she said, as she moved away for Eric to take her place. 

“Can we stop mugging me off here?” Dele demanded in feigned petulance. 

“You downright fucked this up, mate,” Eric remarked as he leaned closer to inspect the tie. 

As soon as Eric’s trained hands grabbed Dele’s mishandled tie, Dele felt himself stiffen. His chest became hard and his heart started beating faster but with Eric’s warm, comforting fingers fixing up his tie, he knew he couldn’t afford to fuck up and make his physical reactions known. But goddammit did it hurt to pretend like it didn’t matter. Eric’s fingers were firm but soothing as he maneuvered through the various knots in the tie. But he knew nothing about the various knots forming in Dele’s stomach. 

As he was nearing closer to the finish, Dele swore he could feel Eric’s fingers stroking his Adam's apple in the most gentle way possible.  Eric straightened his head up and looked at Dele, years’ worth of memories and unsaid passions floating between their eyes. Time stood still and Dele’s breathing had stopped, he reckoned. All he could do was gaze at Eric’s lips, how soft and they must feel. “All set to go, Delboy,” he grinned. 

Dele cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Well, that’s the last time you’re doing that,” 

Eric laughed and turned to his sister, holding out his arm for her to lock into. “Shall we?” 

The siblings entered the manor as Dele buttoned up his coat. He tried not to stare at Eric’s tall, broad shoulders as he sauntered away in that cutting, flattering three-piece suit, working a formal attire as if he existed in the nineteenth century. 

“Wow,” said Ruby as she grabbed his hand. “Seeing him fix up your tie got _my_ panties wet, let’s be fair,” 

Dele chuckled, gripping her hand tighter. “Was it obvious?” They began ambling towards the door, ensuring a safe distance from the Dier siblings. 

“Just obvious that you need him, Dele,” she said. 

That he did. That he did beyond doubt. 

 

* * *

It was a long yet stunning ceremony. The whole hall was garnished with carnations and lilies, ceiling to floor. Harry’s older daughter, Ivy, was the flower girl but the only activity that occupied the toddler was rolling around in the flowers the whole way through. Eric sat on the third row, his mind focused on Dele, who was sitting on the second row in a diagonal direction from him. 

Dele had his arms resting on Ruby’s shoulders. She would whisper something in his ear every now and then, making the both of them giggle. Eric could remember how nice Dele smelled earlier, like roses and lavender, like old spice and a new car. It was a strangely intimate moment, undercut by their restless banter and giggles. 

Well, that’s what it was, most of the time anyway. Bantle and giggles. _Banter and giggles_. The Christmas party was perhaps the only interaction in the history of their friendship when it wasn’t banter and giggles, and that’s what made it so captivating, frustrating and special. But Eric did not think the banter took away from their chemistry; the banter perhaps was the chemistry in the first place. They were young, irritable men in the twenties; they probably fumbled their way into flirting with women, much less than team-mates of the same sex. Not to mention that if word got out of their feelings for one another, Eric’s life would be over. He would be shunned from football, he would be shunned from his family, he would be shunned from friends and he would have to spend the rest of his days living off the money he made and spent in his twenties, perhaps on a remote island, reading and playing with his dogs. 

That didn’t sound too bad to him, he admitted. But he was getting off-topic. It didn’t have to come to that. He could just suppress whatever was brewing between him and Dele, go out to the club again, meet another beautiful woman, buy her a bottle of wine, take her to the Algarve and let the normal routines work themselves out. After a while, seeing Dele with another woman would just be uncomplicated and they could laugh back at what happened in the Christmas party with fondness and embarrassment like it was a folly of their youth. 

By the time the vows were exchanged, H was smiling widely, his eyes watery, trying their utmost to hold themselves. Kate had tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked into her husband’s eyes with a love that lasted over the years, over the ups and downs, over pregnancies and children and distances and heartbreaks. 

Eric glanced at Dele and he felt his chest shudder. He didn’t know whether he would ever be this happy at his wedding. Whether he would even have a wedding to cherish and be enthusiastic about. He didn’t even who he was, whether he liked girls or boys, whether he liked anyone at all. There was so much uncertainty that he wished he could just stop thinking for a while. That’s what Maria had sensed too. 

 _I don’t know what’s the matter with you, but this is not the Eric I met. This is not how I want it to go on. So you either tell me what’s going on with you and we can work together to resolve and move forward, or...or I’m done._  

He had never had the heart to tell her what was going on. Probably because he didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on, or whether it was worth telling her. She had been with him for close to four years at that point and it killed him to let her down like that. But he wouldn’t utter a word. Not close to it. 

Seeing his lack of response, she accepted her job offer and moved to Australia in a few weeks. It was frankly relieving to not have to face her, though it hurt him to let someone down like that, keeping a secret from someone to whom he was so close. 

The officiant declared the two husband and wife and the crowd burst into applause as the newly-wed couple dove into a sweeping kiss. Eric clapped, feeling a bit surreal that another one of his mates had tied the knot and left him swaddling alone in his lonely singledom. Oh well. As the entire room cheered in unison and flowers swirled in the air, Eric felt a pair of eyes turning to his direction. He turned diagonally to where Dele was sitting and there he was, looking at him, with a slight grin on his face. It was only about two seconds before the two evaded those glances and resumed conversation with their respective seat partners. But two seconds is all it takes to think about someone for the rest of the day. 

 

* * *

 

“I dunno, it feels like weddings are both underrated and overrated,” Kyle remarked as he dropped down next to Eric, two glasses of chardonnay in hand. 

Eric took one of the glasses and took a soft, curious sip. “Not a fan of commitment, are you, Walks?” 

Kyle shook his head. “Mate, let’s just draw a veil there,” he said. “You know, there is always a second time…” 

“Or third, fourth, fifth...in many cases,” 

“Nothing quite like first love, though,” 

Eric didn’t respond. Harry and Kate were having their first dance, locked into each other’s eyes, surrounded by nothing but the preciousness of this moment they would recall till their dying breath. Eric knew Dele somewhere to his left but he didn’t want to be caught peering at the room again. 

Frannie had gulped down a few too many cocktails at this point and had struck up a conversation with a guy at the bar, presumably someone from Harry’s youth set-up. Eric considered giving her a little warning but honestly, he didn’t care. Weddings are meant for unplanned hookups and poor decisions. If he couldn’t get some today, well at least someone from the Dier clan would. 

The music had changed after a few minutes and Calvin Harris’s latest blasted through the speakers. Quite instantly, a horde of people strode into the dance floor and started jiving to the music. Kyle stood up, “Well, mate, I’m gonna get fucked up,” he tipped his head and shook his way to the dance floor. 

Eric smiled to himself; he needed to let loose as well. Before he could go towards the dance floor, he saw Dele and Ruby heading towards it, holding each other's arms as they had the entire evening and within no time, they were dancing against each others’ bodies. Amidst much frustration, Eric turned around and strode towards the bar. He hated himself for doing so; there was no need to avoid the pair. It was his best friend having a good time, what’s there to be resentful about?

He thought Frannie would be at the bar, as per what he had seen a few minutes ago but it appeared that she, with her new friend, had also shuffled her way towards the dance floor. Eric asked the bartender for a gin and tonic and bit his lip hard as he tried not to turn and peer at the dance floor. 

“I was told weddings are a goldmine for single people,” 

Eric turned to his right, and a woman in her mid-twenties, Eric presumed, was smiling at him, a couple of empty glasses before her on the counter. The bartender placed a napkin on the counter and then lowered Eric’s drink. 

“There is some truth to that?” Eric asked as he stirred his drink and looked around.  

The woman rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m four drinks in, and as you can tell, I haven’t had much luck. No one’s even asked me my name,” 

Eric chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“Alex,” 

“There you go,” Eric drank from his glass as she scooted closer to him. He could tell how she was approaching him and he had to make a decision very quickly about what he was going to do about that. If he had to turn her down, he had to do it before he swilled down the drinks, because he knew himself and the level of poor decision-making that accompanied his alcohol consumption. And if he wanted this night to go in that direction, well, in that case, not doing anything differently would be the way to go. 

Eric leaned back on the chair. “So how do you know Harry and Kate?” he asked, well aware that any form of conversation at this point with Alex would eventually pave the way for a hookup back at someone’s flat. A drunken tryst that Eric wouldn’t able to feel or appreciate due to the amount of alcohol coursing through his veins. But he knew that if he wasn’t going to get what he really wanted, then he would at least attempt to relive those impulses any way he could. 

Alex was the plus-one of one of Kate’s bridesmaids and thus claimed to have no interest in the wedding other than the bar and the sort of men that would relish a wedding hookup with a stranger. She was a junior architect in a fairly mid-level firm in South London, and the longer she spoke, the more Eric felt like he was sliding deeper and deeper into a connection that he knew he wouldn't be able to live up to. There was a bitterness to her, a wry, unsettled bitterness that really started emerging as something more and more twisted. And a tongue that dealt with honesty for as long as it could. 

“I feel like football players are some of the most shrewd, apathetic people out there, do you agree?”

Eric broke into laughter, the alcohol sloshing about in his mouth as he calmed himself down. “I mean...I don’t know how I can answer that,” 

“No, I mean it,” she said, stirring the drink in her glass. “Uhh, think about it. You all pretend to be so dumb so you don’t have to deal with anything unpleasant or even remotely contro...controvar….controversial,” she managed to say. “And you surround yourselves with lawyers and agents and publicists so you don’t have to do a single thing yourself but pass around a ball and make yourself seem more valuable than you are,” 

Eric wrinkled his forehead. “If I wanted a roast, mate, you’d see me at the buffet,” 

“Go on, then,” she feigned an encouraging smile. 

Eric shook his head and swigged down some more. The drinks kept coming and Eric’s tie kept loosening, his gut swelling and his posture bending. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. If he intended on distracting himself, then at least he was choosing the most entertaining option. 

“You know,” he said, as he chewed the straw placed in his glass. “We’re not all like that,”

“You’re an asshole or you’re a bore. It’s gotta be one or the other,” she declared. 

“You wouldn’t be talking to a bore,” he pointed down, poking her shoulder admonishingly. 

Alex sighed. “Asshole it is. Why else would you be talking to me when you’ve clearly got feelings for someone else?” 

Eric paused. 

“Yeah, heartthrob,” she nodded, her mouth pressed tight. “You know you keep staring at the dance floor but not like you actually wanna dance,”

Eric didn’t know how to reply, so he didn’t. He didn’t know whether it was actually obvious or Alex was just that good at deducing the expressions and inner feelings of her co-drinkers. Perhaps she was reaching. Perhaps it was just a common conclusion to make. Regardless, this was just a stranger at a bar and he didn’t owe her any explanation. He could walk away from his conversation and approach Danny and some of his Spurs mates making noise at a nearby table. 

“Anyway, I’m going for a smoke. Come with?” Alex said, as she slid off the bar stool and grabbed her purse. 

“I don’t smoke,” Eric said. 

She shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s up to you. We can just enjoy the stars, the flowers, all that shite,” 

Eric chuckled and followed her, a drink in his hand to get through the impending awkwardness. They shuffled past the bar and slinked out the hall through a heavy door near the kitchen. Outside it was a bit chilly and without even considering the implications, Eric took off his coat and hung it around Alex’s shoulders. She turned her head and raised her eyebrows. Always the chivalrous man. 

They found themselves not in the garden but by an alley wedged between the two sections of the mansion. It was fairly dark, the only light being the extravagant light posts some thirty yards off.  The music was still audible, albeit reduced to a background murmur at this point. Eric leaned against the wall and took a small but long sip. Alex lit a cigarette and took a drag. 

“So tell me about the girl who broke your heart,” 

Eric grinned to himself, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see his relief. After all, this girl didn’t know all the details of Eric’s internal conflicts. So Eric told the only story he knew how to tell. 

“We met in Portugal, maybe a few months I got signed by Spurs. She called me a puppy dog the first time we met…”

He asked himself whether he was ever in love with Maria. Whether he ever felt the passions and affections for her. He knew he did but to what extent? He knew that he liked holding her, that he liked talking to her, and that he didn’t mind their passionate sex either, but he also knew that whenever they would be making love, his mind never felt complete. Like there was a source of his frustration, a sense of incompleteness that he couldn’t figure out. But when he was with Dele, even as friends or potentially something more, he felt like he was sated. And no more inner complications ran through his head. 

“And you don’t want a rebound?” Alex asked casually, once Eric had finished telling his story about his ex-girlfriend. 

Eric turned to her and she stood right where the light was able to illuminate her face. The corners of her lips were stretched upwards, almost suggestively. And her eyes were questioning, firm but willing. 

Eric placed his three middle fingers on the back of her head and pushed her head forward for a kiss. He didn’t know what came over him other than the overwhelming need to conform and perform as per expectation. But it wasn’t a nervous, gentle kiss. The kiss kept going as Eric’s tongue began to explore the inside of her mouth. It was smooth and active but he felt nothing. He felt like it was akin to a snuggle in front of the telly: comfortable, safe but at the end of the day, lazy and forgettable. 

The door blasted open and Eric let go of her face. 

“Oh, I’m…” It was Dele, his mouth open, his body frozen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Eric sighed and rested his body against the brick wall. He was too drunk, his head was too fuzzy, it was too chilly and it was too late for Eric to process and react to anything that was happening at all. That’s why he started drinking and chatting with Alex at all, so he didn’t have to spend a single brain cell in thinking, reacting, wondering or worrying. So he could just be and commit to whatever that was asked of him. 

“I’ll just…” Dele stammered, looking physically uncomfortable as he stumbled about in place, turning to pull the door. 

“No, wait,” Eric said, and Dele halted. Eric smiled down at Alex. “Go in, I’ll join you in a little bit,”

Alex looked back and forth between Eric and Dele, and smiled. “I hope you don't,” she hobbled over to the door, and Dele opened it for her. Eric’s coat still hung around her shoulders and Dele eyed it as she went in. 

Once the door shut again, the entire world filled with silence and an uneasy sense of confrontation. It lingered at the tip of their tongue, at the edge of their minds, at the touch of their fingers. 

Eric chose to break the eerie quietness. “So you’re here for a smoke, too?”

“No,” Dele said. “I dunno, I wanted to get some fresh air,”

“Yeah, it can be pretty hot in there,” Eric said, as he finished off his drink. “You and Ruby were getting down with pretty freaky movies,”

Dele chuckled. “ _Freaky_ ,” he repeated. “Well, you are having fun yourself, so it’s…”

“ _Fun_ ,” Eric repeated, adding even more sarcasm. 

Dele came closer, his face becoming more and more distinct as the light reflected off his chiseled it, his cheekbones sticking out like rocks, his eyes gleaming like a constellation. Even when Eric couldn’t see or understand anything else, he could always be certain that Dele was going to look like the most precious, handsome person around. Eric could feel his heart beat faster, his lips straining for a touch. 

“You followed us,” Eric asserted as if it was some glorious discovery. 

Dele bit his lip and looked the other way. “That’s not ...that's not true,”

“You totally did,” Eric insisted. 

“Mate, I don’t know where you’re…”

“Sod off, Dele, you were always a bad liar,” Eric said. He leaned closer to Dele, his head just inches off his shoulder. He could fall. In a multitude of ways. But he had to control himself. Control his motions, his emotions, his urges, his passions, his movements. “Now you know how I feel,” Eric said softly. 

Dele looked at his feet, not quite ready to take in what Eric just said. He began tapping his heels against the wall as Eric stood motionless. He was chewing his lip, his face indifferent but his mind in shambles. “And how do you feel?” 

“You know how I feel, Dele,” Eric said. 

“No, no,” Dele refused vehemently. “You can’t feel anything. Nothing. Nothing at all. You were just sticking your tongue down a stranger’s…”

“It’s all fucked,” Eric said. “I just want it to stop,”

“Stop what?” 

“This thing we have going on...whatever the fuck it is. I can’t handle it,” Eric admitted, as he placed his glass on the ground. He was tired, he knew it. Tired physically, tired professionally, tired of navigating his illicit emotions in their tough, confusing and unfair world of football. He was tired of seeing Dele dance around with another girl, knowing that he and Dele shared a special, undeniably romantic moment a year and a half ago. That they immediately forgot about having shared that moment, like it meant nothing, like it didn’t exist. 

His body ached with need. Not for some strange hook-up at the alleyway of a wedding venue. Not for his ex-girlfriends. Not for some shirtless men on gay dating apps. All the blood, veins, muscles and bones in his body pointed to one direction. Ached to be comforted and held and touched by one person. One man. Just one man. 

“Then stop it,” Dele said. It was said in a more of a challenging tone than Dele had intended, perhaps. Or that’s how it was perceived by Eric in his increasingly, exhaustingly inebriated phase.

“Fine. I’ll stop it,” Eric said, a little irritated. 

He didn’t like the implication that he was the one who was going to have to stop it like he was the only one continuing with this mopey bullshit. As if Dele himself did not follow him and his potential one-night-stand into the alleyway, wanting to stop them, wanting to have this conversation. 

So consumed with anger, annoyance, desire, and alcohol that before Eric could stomp out of the alley, he paused where Dele was standing, looked into his deep brown eyes for ten seconds and received all the confirmation he needed to stride up towards him and slam his mouth into Dele’s. It was a rough, hard kiss, the kind that made Dele melt in Eric’s arms, the kind that led Eric to push Dele against the walls and hold his thumb tightly against Dele’s chin so his mouth could be exactly where it belonged. It took Dele about a second to respond, his hands slowly creeping around Eric’s waist, his lips curling inside Eric’s mouth. But before Eric could take the kiss further, which his entire body urged him to do, Eric broke off the kiss and stepped back. He inspected Dele’s face and wondered how perfect it came to be.

Eric cleared his throat. “Wanna get the last drink with me, Delboy?”

Dele breathed out in confusion. He pulled together a perplexed but mesmerized grin, unsure of what he was to say now. “Didn’t think we were done, Dier,” 

  



	3. The Kiss That was Promised

He knew he was so screwed when the taste of Eric’s lips lingered in his mouth the entire night. Dele closed his eyes and the breath-taking events of last night flashed in his head. The way Eric had pushed him against the wall and had taken Dele’s face in his arms, and so quietly but so passionately inserted his mouth inside. Dele felt those sensations in the morning and it still made him shudder. He could feel the pressure of Eric’s body against his, the force of his hands, the passion in his lips, the madness in his eyes. 

“You’re sure in a good mood,” Ruby smirked, as she poured a glass of milk for herself. “Who’d have known that repressing your feelings actually suck?”

Dele rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he said, sipping his coffee. His tongue burnt at the taste, so he set down his cup. 

“Well,” she sat down next to him on the stool. “How do you feel about it?”

Dele knew how he felt about it. But thinking about saying it out loud opened a pit in his insides. He could feel the bile surge up to his mouth, releasing a bitter, dry taste. Footballers couldn’t be gay. He knew that. He’s known that since he was twelve when he would find himself staring at this one kid from the neighborhood far too longer than he knew was appropriate. His chest tightened at the memories of being called a queer, long before he even knew what it meant, back when it was an insult aimed at anyone and everyone. He had already been getting teased and bullied over a deadbeat dad, an alcoholic mother, siblings that abused him verbally and physically--- the hallmarks of a broken childhood that never left his side. 

It shook him to this core and he would do just about anything in the world to fend off those acute feelings of hurt and fear that arose every time he thought about what it would be like to have his secret be known. 

Dele sighed and spent a few minutes scrolling through his Instagram feed, most of which entailed most of the players either basking in the last few days of their holiday or going into pre-season. He wasn’t due in Hotspur Way for a few more days and just the thought of jogging around Eric made Dele’s throat tighten. It was everything he wanted but also without having dealt with whatever it was that occurred last night, he knew they wouldn’t have a good time dodging each other. 

“I should call Eric,” Dele decided, glancing at the clock to make sure it wasn’t too early in the day to make hurtful decisions. 

Ruby shrugged, looking up from her phone. “It’ll be good to get some clarity,” 

“No, it’s not about clarity. I just gotta call him and let him know that we’re mature athletes, we can put this behind us,” 

Ruby wrinkled her eyebrows. “Mature? And you?”

“Shut up!” Dele grinned reluctantly, pulling up Eric’s contact on his phone. He stood up and went to the patio, not because it would afford him privacy but because he needed the space. He just needed the space to breathe, feel comfortable and most importantly, be able to get the correct words through to Eric. 

Eric picked up in three rings. “Hey, Del,”

“Eric?” Dele asked. Of course, it was Eric but it seemed like he was much less prepared as he has thought. He would have to work harder on this communication, mature business. “Yeah, Eric, hi,”

“Yup, hi,” Eric greeted, seeming a little confused. “You got home okay night?”

“Well, I wasn’t as shit-faced as you, so yeah, I did,” Dele prodded, knowing he couldn’t finish the conversation without making a jab at Eric’s glorious drunken state at the wedding reception. It just tickled Dele to still be able to do that. It made him feel like himself. Like maintaining that bond with Eric was as essential to his understanding of self that he couldn’t envision a future that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Which is why they needed to get over this hurdle right this moment. 

“It happens, mate. It’s happened to you many times,”

“Yeah, right” Dele snorted. He didn’t know what to say then, so an awkward silence broke into the conversation. “Okay, so last night…”

Eric sighed, his exhaled breath loud enough to reach a thousand seas. “I know, Del. That was a drunken mess,”

Although Dele was relieved that Eric also perceived it as nothing other than a physical instinct brought on my alcohol, he was a little disappointed at the same time. To Dele, it might have meant a little more than that. Or did it? Of course, it did, otherwise, he wouldn’t be so insistent on putting it behind them. 

“Um, Eric, I just want to move forward, it’s not worth being hung up on the past,” Dele said, trying to sound as optimistic and casual as possible. 

“Right, of course,” Eric said. “What do you think about going to the park today? With the dogs? I was going to go with Eddie but I’m thinking he might cancel. It should be fun,”

Dele had to play those words back in his head again because he couldn’t quite believe what Eric was propositioning. “Uh, just the two of us?”

“No, my doggos will be there with play with us,”

Dele swallowed. “Yeah” he croaked. “Yeah, sure, let’s do that,” he said more confidently. 

Regardless of how he felt about the whole situation, there was no way in hell he was going to turn down an offer to hang out with his best friend. They had way too much fun all the time and Dele thought that being reminded of the fun they had _as best friends_ would be productive in moving forward and warding off those romantic moments. 

Or so he would hope. 

“Cool, you can pick me up. My boys and I will be waiting,” 

“See ya, bye,” 

Dele hung up the phone call and looked for a place to sit down. He dashed to the kitchen, where Ruby was munching through a bowl of carrots and laughing at a series of vines on her phone. “How did it go?”

Dele walked over to the counter and rested his elbows against the counter, needing that support to hold him still and balanced. “I think he might have asked me out on a date?”

Ruby raised both her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“I dunno,” Dele put his head in his hands. “I fucking dunno. I don’t know what’s his deal?”

“He likes you, and he knows that you like him too?”

Dele sighed. “This can’t be happening, Rubes,” 

Ruby pushed the bowl of carrots across the counter. “Well, eat up,” she advised. “Unless you want to look like a mug on your first date,” 

  


* * *

  


Eric didn’t know what to expect from the afternoon ahead but he knew that he wanted to look his best. Not that he didn’t normally invest time into making sure he looked neat and splendid but he felt like he needed to present himself as put-together and sensible but also relaxed and laid-back. After that spontaneous, non-rational kiss last night, he needed Dele to know what he was ready to tackle the situation confidently. 

It upset him slightly that tackling the situation probably meant that they had to forget about it yet again. That they would have to tiptoe around each other, pretending that they were just the best of friends all the while knowing that things had progressed far beyond what either of them had planned. It was nearly a prison sentence but that’s life was like for quite-not-so-straight football players who still maintained an active interest to, you know, play football.  

Eric was feeding his labradors some treats when his phone vibrated. A car pulled into his driveway and Eric whistled at his dogs. “Looks like you will have work off those treats. Are you ready? Are you ready?” He murmured to his boys, as they followed him out of the house. 

Dele came out of his car and opened the backdoors to usher the dogs inside as Eric finished up locking the door. “Good afternoon, hey, hey!” Dele spoke softly to the dogs, petting their heads as they jerked closer to him. 

He couldn’t really put a finger on it but it warmed his heart to see Dele interacting with his babies. Maybe it’s been a while but also because he loves his boys and he wants his closest friends, or whatever Dele was, to build a loving bond with them. It promised him with a glimpse of a future he could, under no circumstances, have with Dele. 

“Looks like they’ve been missing you,” Eric remarked, getting into the car. 

“Can’t blame them,” Dele smiled, getting back into the drivers’ seat. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“Of course, Del, this ain’t my first rodeo,” 

Dele sighed in indignation. “You’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”

Eric looked up from his phone with an affirming grin. He inserted the address into the GPS and placed his phone on a stand near the radio. Dele narrowed his eyes and read the map. “You need glasses, you know that, right?”

“Shut up,” 

Eric laughed, as Dele turned a corner. “What, does that ruin your Leo Fortis Mr. Swagman No-fucks-given image?”

“Mate,” Dele shook his head. “I don’t pretend to read books like you. Fair to say I’d survive without them,”

Before Eric could say something, Coco, the white labrador, shifted in his seat and stuck her head out the window. Eric touched his head from behind the seat and gave him a good shake. “You will be getting out very soon, are you excited, are you excited?”

Eric withdrew his hand and looked at Dele. “You know, you should get one,”

“A dog?”

“Yeah, why not?” 

“I already have a dog,”

“Not the family dog that you grew up with, but maybe someone you can go to bed with every night. Someone who will just put a smile on your face every time after you come home after a loss,” Eric said. 

He knew that, although Dele didn’t seem as fond of animals as Eric was, there was a still a gentleness to how Dele played with his dogs. A gentleness that made Eric’s eyes well up. Something he wanted to capture in a bottle because it was so unfamiliar, rare and strikingly honest. A gentleness that belonged to a boy Eric has long been trying to find. The boy that normally hide behind a wall of luxury, steeliness, and anger. He suspected that Dele’s early childhood may have deprived him of the basic moments that made up most normal children’s memories, such as the joy of having a dog. So Eric did the best he could to acquaint the boys with Dele. 

“I can think about it,” Dele said. 

They turned another corner and the sun shot through the windows, gradually gleaming off their windows. Eric bit his lip, trying to work out how he might even begin to address the elephant in this car. “Ruby likes dogs, doesn’t she?”

Dele visibly stiffened, as if the mention of his girlfriend made him squirm. He hesitated, deliberately looking away from Eric. “She...loves dogs,” he said. “You know what, Eric? What the fuck?” he snapped. 

Eric drew back, shocked that this would be the trigger to the confrontation they’ve been waiting for since the night before. 

Dele continued, “You don’t give a shit about Ruby. If you gave half a shit about our relationship, you wouldn’t have tried to fucking kiss me,”

Eric couldn’t believe this. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute here. Are we going to act like I was the only participant in that kiss?”

“Participant?” Dele spit, fuming. “Stop talking like a fucking analyst who…”

“You didn’t stop me. You pulled me back in,”

“I thought you were too fucking drunk to remember any of that, remember what a class-A piece of shit move that was to…” Dele countered. 

“And it’s not like you’ve been a stand-up boyfriend to her, Jesus fucking christ,” Eric yelled, his dogs raising their ears in the back, getting irritated. “What, breaking up with her then making up with her? Taking home random women from the clubs and then bringing her to the wedding like she’s your one and only?”

Dele tightened his fists on the steering wheel. “What’s that matter to you?”

Eric didn’t have an answer to that. He fell back and exhaled, letting all that fury out of his body. He peered at the road ahead. “I guess it shouldn’t,” 

“No, it shouldn’t,” Dele agreed. 

Eric didn’t have a response to that. He knew the situation on the back of his hand but his feelings...he couldn’t begin to decipher them and more importantly, he couldn’t begin to work out how he was going to put them away. Clearly, enough had been said already in this car ride to go back to their casual lingo, so Eric had to salvage this confrontation in a way to move forward, not rehash stuff that wouldn’t matter to them and would only serve to remind them everything they could not have as football players. 

He wished for the innocence of their first few years when they were so infatuated with each other and so content in their sense of self that they could be romantic without attempting to investigate what it really meant. When they could touch and play and flirt with each other without caring about the implications. When they could spend an infinite amount of time with each other and nothing else mattered but each others’ presence. 

Eric didn’t know if there was ever going to be a way to go back to those wonderful years. He had that chance and now it was gone. The harshness of reality was always going to interfere in their haven of bliss. But if there wasn’t a way of going back, could they at least try going forward?

“Did you like the kiss, though?” Eric had to ask before he locked away the incident into the back of his memories forever. 

Dele glanced at Eric and turned back to the road. He sucked his lower lip and swallowed, his Adam’s apple stretched far and wide. “Fucking hell, Eric,” he said. “You know I did,” 

 

* * *

  


On the open field, the dogs ran like there was no tomorrow. They ran to the edge of the park as if they were competing against each other but really they wanted to run together. When they reached the end, they rolled over each other and wrestled lightly before making their way back. It was an empty park, someplace Eric described as his “little secret”, where he could bask in the quiet and the peace of solitude with nothing but the sounds of his dogs pawing at his legs. 

Dele and Eric were laying on the grass, resting their heads on an old backpack and a frayed pillow from Dele’s car. Eric watched his dogs, their hurried, joyful movements being reflected in his rapt eyes. They had been fairly passive since their heated conversation during the early part of the ride. Since then, they had chatted a bit about the upcoming season, their new signings and whether Los Angeles was a better holiday destination than Portugal. It wasn’t. Dele knew that but he wanted to rile Eric up anyway. 

But having come out into this cool breeze and the abundantly lush park had taken away the need to occupy themselves with conversation. Dele could spend hours here, his limbs loose, his mind clear and his thoughts overrun with possibility, with visions for a future that felt close yet so far away. 

“Was that your first kiss?” Dele asked.

“Delboy!” Eric chided. 

“No, I mean, with...a guy,”

Dele’s eyes were closed.  He liked it when his other senses were heightened so that his sight didn’t have to do all the work in processing the world around him. But it was also nice to not be able to see Eric’s response and hence avoid the confusing, painful array of feelings that might arise as a result. 

Eric let out a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, the sound barely audible but yet it echoed through Dele’s ears like a ringing bell. “What about you?”

Dele thought whether he should bare it all at this point. He opened his eyes and looked at his friend. The one with glassy blue eyes. And a chiseled, scruffy face that Dele wanted to touch and rub his cheeks against. This is Eric, for fuck’s sake. If he couldn’t even attempt to tell him the truth, then what was the point of friendship and affection and loyalty and support? They would have only been strictly professional co-workers who only saw each other in the dressing room and on the pitch and perhaps during ecstatic goal celebrations. But they were beyond that. They were even beyond friends, it seemed like. 

“It was my first kiss, with a guy,” Dele admitted. “But it wasn’t my first time, you know…” Dele gulped. It felt so strange to even bring the words to his mouth. “Being curious about a guy,” 

Eric looked at him, his gaze blossoming with a soft curiosity. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Dele sat up. “I was maybe twelve and I didn’t know it at the time but I really fancied a guy on my Sunday League team. He was maybe two years older and...nothing happened with him. But…” he paused. “But when I thought about him, it was easier for me to...you know, wank,”

Eric chuckled. 

“I didn’t think of it as anything, just something that guys do. But then one day, we were practicing after a session, just the two of us. And then we stopped to drink water and I guess I was trying to lean on him or something and he gave me a real uneasy look,” he sighed. It made him curl up inside just thinking of that moment. “That’s when I knew that what I was trying to do at the time or how I felt, whatever was happening was all very wrong,”

Eric nodded sympathetically. He rose up straight so he could be level with Dele and project his gaze at him directly. “Del, I had no idea,”

“You kinda did, if you knew to kiss me, like twice now,” 

“I didn’t think about it,”

Dele looked at his lap. “Well, go on then. What’s your story?”

“What story?” 

“I told you my story!” Dele spread his palms out excitedly, a fix of feigned shock and amusement in his face. 

Eric laughed. Dele didn’t think it could be done but the worst part of his admission was possibly over. He had told him the truth and the world didn’t fall apart. In fact, it felt a little too close to relief and Dele dreaded this relief as much as he desired it. 

“I don’t know if I have a story…” Eric said. He gradually stopped smiling, looking away once again. “I guess I got to know you, spend time with you and...I’m not sure. I started getting a little jealous when I saw you with Ruby. It’s like I wanted you all to myself,”

Those words felt like music to Dele’s ears. He swore he could feel his heart swell up three times its size. “You always had me to yourself,” 

Eric bit his lip and turned his gaze towards Dele. They both stared at each other and it’s like nothing else in the world existed. Nothing but the short yet indomitably long distance between their faces. Dele was wrong; the world had fallen apart outside the two of them. In fact, the world had been turned on its axis and Dele couldn’t believe that the two of them were sitting on this wide, open space of hope, and saying the words that had been stuck inside their throats for the better part of four years. 

Dele held his breath and extended his finger to touch Eric’s on the grass. He studied Eric’s reaction: thoughtful, patient and just with a little hint of nervousness. Dele took that as an affirmation and grabbed Eric’s hand, locking fingers with his. “So the drunken kiss wasn’t a mistake?”

Eric smiled down at their hands and reached forward to place his other hand on Dele’s knee. “No.”

Dele swallowed. “If…” he could feel his mouth going dry. “If you could do it again, uhm...would you?”

Eric grinned, flushing. With the slightest movement of the head that Dele would have missed if he wasn’t so aware in the moment, he nodded. 

Dele couldn’t believe this moment. It really felt like one of the countless dreams he had had about Eric, the kind that made his stomach hurt and his heart jump, the kind that sent charges through his veins, the kind that made his toes curl and his pants tighten. Dele could feel his breath get caught in his throat; it certainly wasn’t easy to breathe normally when the most beautiful man in the world gazed at him with intention. 

“Then go ahead,” 

Dele mumbled it so quietly that he wasn’t sure if Eric even caught it. But amidst this everlasting state of peace and honestly, his voice echoed a thousand miles. Eric extended forward, ever so slowly, each millisecond feeling like a lifetime yet it couldn’t go faster. Eric’s lips tenderly touched Dele’s lips. 

His cologne rubbing off his cheek. His fingers caressing his knuckles. His lip moving passionately inside Dele’s mouth. Eyes closed. The softness of his lips sending Dele up into the air, his body floating, his mind dissolving into the gentleness of Eric’s touch. Dele couldn’t believe it but his body was acting on its own accord. It lifted up its arms and wrapped them around Eric’s neck as Dele pulled closer. 

He could feel the stubble against his cheeks and it just about scratched every itch on Dele’s body. A few minutes ago, his heart was beating but now it felt like it stopped beating. That his body had been suspended and his heart hung in the middle, stretched and overwhelmed. 

One of Eric’s dogs bounded over to get some cuddles. Eric broke off the kiss and laughed. He reached to cuddle him and tickle his chin. “Hi there! You had a good run? Coco, did you have a good run?”

Dele kept his head on Eric’s shoulder as he too began stroking Coco’s on the back. This, right here, was perfection. His head resting on Eric’s shoulder, their bodies touching, the taste of Eric’s mouth in his lips and the feeling of freedom on his tongue. 

“Was that up to your standards, Delboy?”

Dele pressed his lips into a reluctant smile, looking down like a blushing newly bride. “Maybe,”

“Hmmm…” Eric turned to him with a mischievous smile. “What, too much tongue for you?”

Dele rolled his eyes and grabbed Eric closer with a pull on his shirt. “Not enough, I’d say,” he whispered. “But as all my coaches have taught me, we have to practice and practice and practice,” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing style, please read some of the other works I've written on this ship. They remain very close to my heart and those are some of my finest pieces of writing. This ship continues to inspire and fill me with hope.


End file.
